


A Lesson in Vulgar Things

by Arbryna



Series: Right Kind of Wrong [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Other, Sibling Incest, Smut, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethany's curious about what those six things are. Isabela recruits Hawke to help her demonstrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Vulgar Things

There is something undeniably wanton about lying naked on Isabela's bed—the coarse blankets rough against her bare skin, the dank air somehow cool and moist all at once. Adding to the excitement is the fact that Isabela is still fully clothed, the leather of her boots pressing against the inside of Marian's thighs, the warmed metal necklace tickling at her sternum. She loves getting Isabela naked, but this is a whole different kind of delicious. 

Isabela is pressing hot kisses down the line of Marian's jaw, murmuring something that Marian is too distracted to register—at least, until she hears Bethany's name. Marian stiffens, shoves at Isabela's shoulders until she can make eye contact. 

"Why are you bringing up my little sister right now?" Of all the things to talk about during sex. Honestly, Isabela.

The lamplight flashes off of the gold stud under Isabela's mouth as she smirks. Her lips are swollen from kisses, her whiskey-colored eyes dark and liquid with arousal. Marian bites her lip, willing herself to stay focused. 

"She's not that little." Isabela quirks an eyebrow suggestively. "And I was saying, she hasn't stopped pestering me about that little comment I made the other day. Very curious, your sister." 

A calloused fingertip drags lazily up the side of Marian's ribs, and she shivers as it sends a jolt straight between her legs. It feels wrong to be talking about her sister when she's this aroused. "Which comment?" 

"Oh, you know the one," Isabela replies breezily, lowering her mouth back down to nibble at Marian's neck. "About women being good for six things." 

Ah, that one. Marian remembers it well. "You still haven't even explained that one to _me_." 

"Well, sweet thing," Isabela says, palming a naked breast with one still-gloved hand. Her breath brushes hot into Marian's ear. "It's really something that's easier explained by demonstration." 

Marian frowns, trying to wrap her desire-addled brain around what Isabela is implying. "Are you asking for my permission to bed my sister?" She's not sure how she feels about that—or which part she wants to object to more. 

Isabela chuckles, low and rich. "Oh, Hawke," she says, patting Marian's cheek fondly. "I would never ask permission. Bethany's a big girl. She can do as she pleases, just like you or I." 

"Then why are we talking about this right now?" Marian's trying not to whine, but _really_ —Isabela's got her all worked up and naked, and there are much better things to be doing. 

There's a glint in Isabela's eyes, dark and mischievous—it's the one Marian's come to recognize means trouble. "Well she can't very well learn if I'm doing it to her," she says matter-of-factly, twisting a nipple between her thumb and forefinger until it's painfully hard. "And trying to teach her while she does it to me would just take the fun out of it." 

Wrapping her legs around the back of Isabela's thighs, Marian arches up, straining for some kind of contact. "So take her to the Rose, find someone to show her on. You never have a shortage of takers." Ordinarily, she'd be appalled at her suggestion—her baby sister, at the Rose!—but right now she really just needs Isabela to stop talking and find better uses for her tongue. 

The smirk on Isabela's lips darkens, and she slides her fingers down; they brush over Marian's hipbone, tease at the dripping curls covering her sex. "I had someone else in mind." 

Marian jerks her hips into the touch, and groans as Isabela pulls her hand away. She's studying Marian intently, waiting for her implication to sink in. When it does, Marian's eyes widen in shock even as fresh moisture floods between her legs. "She's my _sister_!" 

Isabela grins, rewarding Marian with a slow stroke of her fingers. Marian is so wet she can barely feel it until the pad of one finger presses against her clit, and stars explode behind her eyelids. "Well you wouldn't want us to do it with someone you didn't trust, would you?" 

"That-that's not the point." Marian gasps as Isabela's fingers probe at her entrance. "It's not natural," she says feebly, her hands tangling in Isabela's hair. "I can't—we don't think of each other that way." 

Judging from the look on Isabela's face, she doesn't believe it. She lifts an eyebrow as she slowly slides one finger inside. "Is that why you look ready to run through anyone who looks at her with a hint of lust in their eye?"

Oh, that's just ridiculous. "I'm only looking out for her," Marian insists, trying her hardest not to let herself picture what Isabela is suggesting. "It's my job to protect her."

"Is that what it is?" Isabela adds a finger, pushes in steadily and stays there. "You're very good at it, then. The way your eyes linger on her whenever she's not looking. Very _protective_." She curls her fingers hard upward, just once, just enough to emphasize her point.

Marian shuts her eyes, tries to tell herself that the way she clenches around Isabela's fingers is simply a reaction to the physical sensation, but it's no use. She's already imagining it: shy, sweet, innocent Bethany, watching with rapt fascination as Isabela fucks her big sister just a few feet away. The blush on her cheeks, the way her tunic would display just enough of her pale, heaving breasts as she squirmed in her seat. Maybe it would be too much for her—maybe her hand would creep under her robes, slide between her legs, stroke in time with Isabela's thrusts. 

A pained whimper tears from Marian's throat, and her hands fall from Isabela's hair to clutch at the blankets. "It's wrong," she says, unsure whether she's trying to convince Isabela or herself.

"The poor thing just wants to learn," Isabela coos, keeping her hand in place as she shifts to straddle Marian's thigh. Her smalls are soaked through, slippery against Marian's bare skin. "You don't have to touch her if you don't want." When Marian opens her eyes, Isabela is hovering over her, inches away from a kiss. "It's just fun, sweet thing. What could be wrong about that?"

With a groan, Marian lets her head sink back into the pillow, her relaxation a signal of defeat. "Fine," she says, trying with all her might to make it sound like the idea doesn't appeal to her in the slightest. "She'll never agree to it, anyhow." 

Isabela leans down to capture Marian's mouth in a heated kiss. When she pulls back, a victorious smirk paints her lips. "We'll see about that."

***

As much as her sister would prefer otherwise, Bethany has been in the Blooming Rose before. Never as a patron, of course; she's only tagged along while Marian investigated this mystery or that. Somehow it's different this time— _feels_ different—knowing that she's going to be using this room for its intended purpose.

They could have done this in Isabela's room at the Hanged Man, but Isabela insisted that it was a special occasion, and as such required a level of luxury—and privacy—that simply can't be found at the Lowtown tavern. 

Isabela locks the door behind them, then sets about removing her gloves and weapons while Marian and Bethany stand awkwardly across from one another, neither sure of exactly what to say in this situation. It's Marian who finally breaks the silence, though she doesn't meet Bethany's eyes. "We don't have to do this, you know." Her words are soft, careful—ever the protective older sister. 

Bethany clenches and unclenches her hands at her sides, feeling nervous tension flowing through her like magic. Finally she crosses her arms over her stomach to still them; she doesn't fail to note how her sister's eyes drift to her chest. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," she says, her voice gaining confidence as the flush on Marian's cheeks deepens. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Sister." 

It feels strange to call her that, when they all know what they're here for. She hardly ever calls Marian by her name, though; it scarcely occurred to her to call her anything else. The truth is, Bethany hasn't been a little girl for a long time, and her definition of the word "sister" has been muddled by years of confusion at her own body's reactions to all the tales of Marian's sexual exploits. They've always been close, but until Isabela suggested this, Bethany hadn't considered just how close she might want to be. 

"We're all definitely adults here," Isabela remarks, her gaze raking over each sister in turn. The lust in her eyes is similar to what Bethany has endured from countless village men ever since she began to develop, but it warms her body in a way that feels entirely new. "Now, Sweetness, you just have a seat and get comfortable, and we'll get this little show started."

Isabela's dragged a plush armchair over beside the bed, the perfect distance away to provide the best view. Bethany sits stiffly, her heart near pounding out of her chest, as Isabela drags Marian over between the chair and the bed. 

Marian is tense, her eyes flickering toward Bethany then just as quickly darting away. Isabela slides her hands over Marian's hips, tugging her close until their bodies are flush. "Just focus on me, sweet thing," she says. "Close your eyes if it helps." 

She does, her lashes fluttering closed over that familiar clear blue that Bethany's always loved. Isabela captures Marian's lips in a kiss that starts out chaste, gradually building in passion until Bethany can see their tongues glisten in the lamplight as they entwine. Bethany shifts in her seat, her hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. They've only just begun and her mouth has gone uncomfortably dry. 

"The first thing," Isabela says when they've pulled apart. She slides around until she's pressed against Marian's back, her eyes locked on Bethany, "is that with a woman, you don't need to remove any clothes at all." 

As Bethany watches, Isabela moves her hands to the laces of Marian's pants, loosening them just enough to slide one inside. Marian gasps sharply, and Bethany feels something clench inside of her imagining what Isabela is doing. 

"Here I thought I'd have to work a bit to get you started," Isabela murmurs appreciatively as Marian trembles in her arms. As the muscles in her forearm continue to flex under bronzed skin, Isabela turns her focus back to Bethany. "You could do this at a table in the middle of the Hanged Man without being noticed, if you do it right." 

Bethany swallows, trying to find her voice. "Y-you couldn't with a man?" 

Isabela grins, shakes her head. "A lot harder to go unnoticed that way," she says, her arm working faster. "If you let him finish, you've got quite the mess to take care of—and if you don't, it'll be pretty obvious what you've been doing when he stands up." 

Heat floods Bethany's cheeks as Isabela's words take shape in her mind. Her thighs press together almost of their own accord, and she's astonished by the moisture she can already feel pooling between them.

A whimper sounds in Marian's throat as Isabela withdraws her hand, raising glistening fingers to her lips. Bethany's eyes widen as Isabela licks them clean, humming appreciatively at the flavor. Bethany wonders what it tastes like—can it really be that good?

"Of course, you can have a lot more fun with your clothes off," Isabela says when she's finished. Her fingers drift to the front of Marian's vest, popping each button free with a practiced ease. She slides it off of Marian's shoulders, tossing it aside before moving on to the shirt beneath. Pale skin is revealed slowly, inch by inch, as Isabela raises the shirt up over Marian's abdomen. "Which brings us to the second thing," she continues, pulling the garment up and over Marian's head. "Breasts."

Bethany's breath hitches in her throat; she's seen her sister naked before—they grew up together, bathed together—but she's never seen her like _this_. Her breasts are on the smaller side, but well-formed, with rose-colored nipples stiffening in the cool air. 

Isabela reaches up from behind, dark hands sliding up to cup the pale flesh. "There's nothing quite like them," she says, rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Marian's head drops back against Isabela's shoulder, exposing the line of her throat. Bethany's fingers dig harder into the arms of her chair. "I could spend hours just playing with a nice set of breasts."

"You'd better not," Marian growls, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. Something in the timbre of her voice hits Bethany right between the legs; she's never heard her sister sound like that before—so _needy_. 

She does have to admit though, she's curious about more than just her sister. Bethany nibbles at her lip, summoning her nerve. "They're quite different from yours, though, I'd imagine." 

Chuckling heartily, Isabela withdraws her hands, ignoring Marian's mewl of protest. "Oh, aren't you precious," she says. After guiding Marian back to sit on the edge of the bed, she turns to face Bethany, her fingers working deftly at the laces of her corset. Bethany watches transfixed as Isabela pulls her tunic over her head, revealing full, heavy breasts. Isabela slides her hands up over them, cupping them as she steps closer. When she stands directly in front of the chair she leans over, sliding her hands over Bethany's. "You can touch them if you like." 

Swallowing nervously, Bethany raises trembling fingertips to brush over dark nipples. Isabela hums her approval, pressing forward to encourage a firmer touch. Behind her, Marian's eyes have opened again, fixed on Bethany's hands as her chest swells with each labored breath. Somehow, knowing that her sister is watching with such poorly-disguised desire boosts Bethany's confidence, and she closes her hands over Isabela's breasts, feels the weight of them against her palms. Isabela was right; there's something uniquely enjoyable about this, about the feeling of pliant flesh under her hands. She can't help but wonder how much different Marian's would feel. 

"Very nice," Isabela murmurs approvingly. She leans in to press a teasing kiss to Bethany's lips, then pulls away, turning her attention back to Marian. 

Bethany's hands fall to her lap, feeling cold and empty with nothing to hold onto. She turns them over and grips her own thighs, wondering if she'll be able to make it through four more things. 

"The third thing," Isabela explains, pushing Marian to lie back on the bed, "can be done with or without clothes on." 

Marian stares up at the bed's canopy, fidgeting with the bedspread at her side. Bethany finds it comforting that her sister is nervous too—that she's not the only one completely out of her element. The nurturer in her wants to hold Marian's hand, to let her know that they'll be okay, but right now a different part of herself is in control—and that part knows that if she touches her sister, it won't be to comfort. 

Isabela climbs on top of Marian, straddling one of her thighs; Marian moans and arches up off of the bed as Isabela drives her knee forward. "Try this with a man," Isabela says, grunting as she grinds down against Marian's leg, "and at best, he'll be injured. At worst you'll be run through, and not in the fun way." 

Narrowing her eyes, Bethany tries to think clearly enough to understand what Isabela is saying. This is supposed to be a lesson, after all. "But isn't that just like what you would do with a man?" she asks. By this point she's not sure if the heat in her cheeks is from embarrassment or arousal—she's forgotten why it even matters. "Both of you…taking your pleasure at once?" 

"Only if you're lucky, Sweetness," Isabela replies with a laugh, setting a steady rhythm with her hips. "Most women I've been with, it takes more than a good stiff one to get them off." Sitting back on her heels, she cups her hand pointedly between her own legs. "You've got to focus a bit higher up. Anything else is just a bonus."

Almost of its own accord, one of Bethany's hands slips down between her legs, pressing in where the throbbing is most powerful. She gasps as the sensation explodes throughout her body; it feels like channeling lightning magic, hot and sharp and tingling. Instead of relieving the pressure between her legs, it only seems to intensify it. When she recovers, she looks up to see Marian's eyes quickly dart away from her. In the tiny moment their gazes meet, Bethany sees a wanting so deep it shakes her to the core. 

The moment is brief though, fleeting. Isabela shuffles back to the foot of the bed, sliding back onto her feet. She makes quick work of Marian's boots, tugs Marian's pants and smalls off in mere seconds. Bethany swallows roughly, her heart pounding in her ears. Her sister is lying naked on the bed, some few feet away. She can see the contours of her breasts, erect nipples straining up toward the ceiling, the barest suggestion of wispy curls rising between her legs. Marian's thighs clench and release, filled with a tension that Bethany is starting to understand all too well. 

"The fourth thing," Isabela says, crawling back onto the bed, "is flexibility. Sometimes a girl wants something small—" She raises two fingers to demonstrate, slips them down between Marian's legs, pushes in. 

Marian's hips jerk up, and a strained whimper escapes her lips. "Bela, please." Her fingers are curled tightly around the bedspread now, knuckles white with the force of her grip. 

"—and sometimes something larger is called for," Isabela finishes. She retracts her hand, holding up the two glistening wet fingers and raising two more to join them. When she pushes in this time, the sound that tears from Marian's throat is loud, wanton. 

Bethany nearly moans as she watches Marian's head arch back into the bed, the veins in her neck straining visibly under her skin. She finds herself grinding unconsciously against her hand as her eyes drift over the lines of her sister's body; knees bent, heels digging hard into the mattress, hips almost never touching the bed. Bethany feels her need growing desperate; she just _knows_ that if she presses just a little harder, moves just a little faster, all of this energy in her will be released. At the same time, she's terrified that it will break whatever spell they're all under—she's not ready for this to be over yet. 

"Maybe," Bethany starts meekly, scarcely believing what she's about to suggest. "I might learn better if I tried it myself." 

Isabela grins, glowing with a strange sort of pride. She pulls her hand free from Marian, who has tensed considerably and refuses to look at Bethany. "Step on up, Sweetness." 

Blood rushes in Bethany's ears as she tentatively approaches the bed. Marian is still as she climbs on, staring fixedly at the wall. Concerned, Bethany reaches out to softly brush her fingers against her sister's cheek. 

Marian turns her head, reluctantly meeting Bethany's gaze. Her eyes are a jumble of conflicting emotions. Hesitantly, she brings her own hand up to cover Bethany's, pressing it more solidly against her face. "Are you certain?" 

Drawing breath is suddenly a near-impossible challenge. Bethany closes her eyes, asking herself the same question. A smile curls at the corner of her lips as she realizes there was only ever one answer. "I've never been more sure of what I wanted," she says boldly, opening her eyes and pinning them on her sister's. "But if it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No." Marian's face flushes deep with a combination of desire and shame. "Please, Beth." 

Bethany feels herself flushing hot at the naked want in Marian's voice. She leans down, intending to press a chaste, reassuring kiss on her sister's lips, but all pretense of chastity melts away when their mouths meet. Bethany's never kissed anyone like this before, deep and fierce and hungry. Marian's tongue slides out, probing gently past her lips, and the sparks racing through Bethany's veins have nothing to do with magic. 

Bracing herself with one hand, Bethany indulges her earlier curiosity, letting the hand on Marian's face drift lower as they continue to kiss. Her fingertips trail down Marian's neck, over her collarbone, finally following the swell of a breast. It fills her hand nicely, nipple poking hard against her palm; as she squeezes gently, taking the measure of it, Marian gasps against Bethany's mouth. 

"Beth," Marian whimpers, her fingers tangling in Bethany's hair. "I need—"

Whatever she was going to say dissolves into a sharp moan as Bethany tugs at her nipple. Behind Bethany, Isabela lets out a low chuckle. "Little sister is quite the tease," she murmurs approvingly. 

Heat rises in Bethany's cheeks, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, peering down through her lashes. Marian tries to smile, stroking softly along Bethany's scalp with her thumb. "'Bela's a bad influence," she pants, a strangled attempt at a laugh getting caught in her throat. 

"Well, aren't you ungrateful," Isabela huffs in mock offense. "We don't have to finish this lesson, you know." 

"No." It's Bethany who protests this time, turning to meet Isabela's gaze. "Please, let's go on." 

"You seem to be doing fine without my instruction," Isabela replies with a lewd smirk. "But very well. You'll want a better position." She turns her eyes to Marian, patting the outside of her thighs. "Hawke, slide that cute arse of yours up so we can all get comfortable." 

Marian obeys, limbs shaking as she shifts until her head is resting back against the pillows. Isabela slides back, patting the space between Marian's legs invitingly. Bethany moves to occupy the space, breath heavy through parted lips as she takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her sister: blue eyes dark beneath drooping lashes, black hair plastered to flushed, sweat-damp skin, breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. 

Warm hands settle onto Bethany's shoulders, slide down teasingly until Isabela's fingers are laced with hers. "She won't hold out much longer," Isabela murmurs, her breath hot and moist in Bethany's ear. She guides Bethany's right hand between Marian's legs, dipping their fingers into a wetness so thick and hot it's like liquid fire to Bethany's skin. Marian jerks her hips into the touch, a low keening moan sounding in her chest. 

Bethany bites down on her lower lip as Isabela directs her hand downward, manipulates her fingers until all four are bundled together, pressing against the place where slick flesh curves inward. Isabela withdraws her own hand then, dragging blunt fingernails up Bethany's arm and leaving goosebumps in her wake. 

"With a man," Isabela explains, sliding her hands around Bethany's waist, "you're more or less stuck with whatever the Maker saw fit to bless him with." Her naked breasts press warm against Bethany's back, heating her through her tunic. "Go on, push in," she urges. 

As she does so, Bethany gasps at how Marian seems to pull her inward. It's hot, and tight, and Bethany's never felt anything like it. Marian clutches at the pillow on either side of her head, her muscles visibly straining with effort. 

"Men have hands too, of course," Isabela points out as Bethany begins to slowly slide out, then in again. "But the blighters are never really interested in anything but their own cock."

The sounds Marian is making, the hungry clench of her around Bethany's fingers, the heady smell of her arousal, they're all overwhelming; Bethany has to concentrate to keep track of what Isabela is saying. "Surely not all men are so selfish." 

"Oh, there are exceptions," Isabela admits, her fingers working at the laces of Bethany's tunic. "Very _good_ exceptions, but very rare." She slips the loosened tunic farther down Bethany's arms, sliding a hand inside to cup a breast, and Bethany moans softly. "I knew a man once who could get me off a dozen times before demanding attention of his own. If only all men could take lessons from him." 

Marian arches insistently against Bethany's hand, watching with hooded eyes as Isabela fondles Bethany's chest. Bethany tries to pick up her pace, to give Marian what she so desperately wants, but Isabela's free hand comes down to close around her wrist and keep it still.

"Not so fast, Sweetness," Isabela chides, nipping gently at Bethany's earlobe. "I think she's ready for number five." 

Oh Maker, there's still more. Bethany swallows roughly, giving her sister an apologetic look. "What's number five?" 

Isabela grins into the side of Bethany's neck as she drags two fingertips through the moisture seeping out of Marian's sex. "Have a taste," she says, holding them up in front of Bethany's mouth. 

Bethany hesitantly pokes her tongue out, flicking it quickly against Isabela's finger. The flavor isn't bad at all, subtle and tangy with a hint of salt. Opening her mouth wider, she draws both fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean.

"Very nice," Isabela says, pulling slick fingers away from Bethany's lips. Marian groans at the sight, digs her head back into the pillow. Her entire body is trembling with need now, her abdomen quivering with every breath. "Now," Isabela continues, combing Bethany's hair back with her fingers, "go straight to the source." 

As Isabela's meaning sinks in, Bethany finds herself paralyzed by insecurity. "I'm not sure how." 

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out," Isabela assures, slipping the headscarf from her own head and tying it around Bethany's hair. "It's like kissing, only more interesting." Her hands settle on Bethany's shoulders, and she presses a quick kiss to the back of Bethany's head. "Just remember to breathe through your nose." 

With that, Isabela moves off to the side, guiding Bethany to lie flat on her stomach. The smell of arousal is dizzying, more powerful the closer she gets. Flattening a palm on each of Marian's thighs, Bethany lowers her mouth between them, swipes her tongue experimentally along slippery flesh. Marian cries out at the contact, thigh muscles straining against Bethany's hands; maybe this won't be as difficult as Bethany feared. She strokes again, deeper this time, exploring the slick folds with the tip of her tongue.

"There, you've got it." Isabela caresses Bethany's back, around the edges of her tunic and then down, fingernails scraping through the fabric. "Try a bit of sucking," she suggests, dragging the bottom of Bethany's tunic up over her waist. "And if you can focus, add your fingers back in. She likes that quite a bit." 

Bethany finds the hard nub at the top of Marian's sex and sucks it into her mouth, flicks her tongue against it. Marian's sounds grow more insistent, quick guttural whines that rise in pitch the closer she gets to release. 

"I find most women take to this rather quickly," Isabela explains, slipping her hand under Bethany's tunic to tease at her lower back. "Men, they're hopeless. And if you try doing this to a man, nine times out of then the sodding idiot will try to choke you to death with his cock." 

Isabela's voice is distant to Bethany now, the words barely breaking through the haze of desire that's taken hold of her. She rises up on one elbow, slips her fingers back inside Marian as she increases her mouth's rhythm. She's able to pump once, twice, a third time before Marian cries out. The muscles around Bethany's hand contract hard, pulsing with an intensity that makes her joints ache, but she persists until Marian collapses, boneless and panting, onto the bed.

It's incredible, knowing she's done this, caused this powerful of a reaction without even a hint of magic. For a moment Bethany just stares in awe as Marian catches her breath, but an aching sense of disappointment and anxiety creeps in as the seconds tick by. What happens now? "That was only five," she says when she's able to find her voice. Perhaps she can stretch this experience out a bit longer. 

"Very observant." Isabela slides her hand under the back of Bethany's leggings to cup the firm flesh there. Bethany can feel her own need flare up in response. "The sixth is my favorite," Isabela confides, giving Bethany's arse a firm squeeze. "Give her a second or two to recover, and she'll be ready to go again. None of that pesky waiting around for a man to get hard again."

"Oh," Bethany breathes, feeling Marian clench around her fingers in confirmation. 

Isabela chuckles at her surprise, pushes her hand further down to dip between Bethany's legs. Maker, Bethany didn't realize how wet she was. "Although you already got to have your fun with big sis," she says, withdrawing her hand. "I think it's my turn."

Reluctantly sliding her fingers free of Marian's warmth, Bethany draws back, sitting up on her heels. She feels out of place all of a sudden, like an intruder; Marian and Isabela have been sleeping together for months. "Should I…go, then?" 

Marian rises up on her elbows, meeting Bethany's gaze. "Only if you want to," she says gently. 

If Bethany were at all unsure of what she wanted, the throbbing between her legs would be answer enough. "I don't want to." 

"Good." Isabela slides off of the bed, pressing up against Bethany's back again. "I certainly wasn't done with you yet." A shiver crawls up Bethany's spine at the promise in her voice. "But first, we need to even things out a bit." She tugs at Bethany's boots, pulling them off one by one before moving on to the rest of her clothes.

As Isabela works on Bethany's top half, Marian sits up and kneels before Bethany, her hands trembling in her lap. Isabela slips the chainmail and tunic over Bethany's head and Marian's eyes widen as they take in the expanse of skin that's just been revealed.

Bethany's skin warms under Marian's gaze, moisture pooling between her legs at the thought of her sister touching her. Marian misconstrues her restless shifting and tries to avert her gaze, and Bethany smiles, reaching to cup the side of her face. "It's nothing you haven't seen before," she quips, trying to ease the tension.

"Not like this," Marian breathes. 

"No," Bethany agrees, her voice lower and hungrier than she's ever heard it. "This is better." Isabela presses against her back again, this time without the barrier of clothing in the way, and Bethany moans at the feel of warm breasts against her skin. Nibbling at her lower lip, she lets her eyes drop to Marian's hands. "Though I'd like it better if you did more than look."

Marian raises trembling hands to Bethany's breasts, groaning as she cups the soft flesh. As Marian continues her tentative exploration, Isabela busies herself with the laces of Bethany's leggings, shoving them down as far as their current position allows.

"Time to lie back, Sweetness," Isabela murmurs in Bethany's ear, her hands settling on bare hips. 

After a bit of clumsy maneuvering, Bethany is lying back against the pillows completely naked. Marian hovers over her, trailing careful fingers over the curves of her chest, and Bethany groans. She's had enough of careful; she's been ready to be touched for what feels like ages. Reaching up, she pulls Marian's mouth down to hers, infusing the kiss with all of the passion and need racing through her blood. 

"Maker's Breath, Sister," Bethany gasps when they part. "Just touch me. Please." 

It's like some thin thread of restraint in Marian snaps at Bethany's words, and her knee presses up hard between Bethany's legs as she moves in for another kiss. Bethany clutches at Marian's head, her fingers tangling in short, messy hair as she grinds into the contact. Marian moves her hand down, moaning sharply at the sheer abundance of slick arousal that meets her fingertips. 

"So wet," Marian gasps into Bethany's lips. "Beth—"

Bethany cuts her off with her mouth, sliding her tongue wantonly against her sister's. "Please," she repeats when she draws back again. 

Giving up on words, Marian slides her fingers into Bethany in one smooth thrust, palm grinding against her clit. Bethany cries out, arches her hips, curls her fingers in Marian's hair, oblivious to anything but the fingers inside of her, the feel of Marian's lips and teeth hot on her neck. 

Marian stops abruptly, a whimper catching in her throat, and Bethany opens her eyes to see Isabela kneeling at the end of the bed, bicep flexing as she pumps into Marian from behind. After a moment's recovery, Marian begins her thrusts again, and the knowledge that her sister is pleasuring her at the same time as she's being pleasured herself is almost too much for Bethany. She loses all sense of time, focusing on the tension building to heights she never could have imagined. 

She comes apart in a rush, crying out as her body floods with sensation. It feels as though her very skin is throbbing, pulsing with energy, and it's only a lifetime of discipline and practice that keeps her from releasing what could be a potentially dangerous burst of magic. Not long after, Marian shudders her release for a second time, falling to Bethany's side when her arm refuses to hold her up any longer. 

Silence settles over them as they catch their breath, lying side by side. Finally Marian props herself up on an elbow, her other hand fidgeting with the blanket. "How do you feel?" she asks, peering nervously down at Bethany.

"Very…enlightened," Bethany replies with a tired giggle. She reaches for Marian's hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm fine, Sister. _We're_ fine." Marian must be blaming herself for this, thinking she somehow corrupted her little sister; the truth is, all that's changed is that now Bethany recognizes something in herself she never acknowledged before. She wouldn't trade this experience for anything, and a large part of her is hoping it wasn't a one-time thing. 

"If you're sure," Marian says, her smile growing less troubled. 

Bethany leans up until her lips are poised just below Marian's. "I'm sure," she murmurs, claiming her sister's mouth in a slow, languid kiss. 

At the foot of the bed, Isabela clears her throat. Marian pulls away and grins. "I think someone is feeling left out."

"Well, this whole thing _was_ my idea, if you recall," Isabela points out, raising an eyebrow. 

"And a wonderful idea it was," Bethany says, peering up at Marian with mischief in her eyes. "An idea like that deserves a reward. Don't you think, Sister?" 

"It certainly does," Marian agrees, smirking impishly. 

Predictably, Isabela puts up no resistance as both Hawke sisters tug her down onto the bed.


End file.
